Found
by forthegenuine
Summary: Found. The past tense of 'to find.' To take the first steps in building. And to melt, and pour into a mold... Katniss welcomes Peeta home from a six-month deployment, sort of. Written for Spring Fling.


**Author's Note**: Written for The Hunger Games Exchange Spring Fling. Thank you to Streetlightlove for this wonderful prompt! Parts of this story are unabashedly inspired by episodes of _Gilmore Girls_ and _How I Met Your Mother_.

Oh, and Queen, not Justin Beiber...

* * *

**Found**

Katniss checked her watch for what must have been the dozenth time that night. She didn't want to add to the tally, the number of times she had also taken her cellphone out of her purse and registered a pause as the screen lit up, as if she would suddenly discover that her watch had the wrong time. Earlier in the night, she even sought out an airport clock to make sure she wasn't running on a different schedule altogether. No matter which timepiece she consulted, however, one thing was for certain: Peeta Mellark was late. Very late.

She compulsively glanced at her phone every so often, anticipating a missed call or text from Peeta, though she never felt her phone vibrate. She idly wondered if she was inside some strange reception vortex that prevented her phone from working properly, despite the fact that all five signal bars were lit up. She looked at the flight board to double check if his flight had arrived, which it did. She checked her email and text messages from Peeta to see if she had the correct flight number, which she did. So where was he?

Katniss had been counting down to this day since Peeta's departure six months ago. Actually, she had been looking forward to this day when they found out he was being deployed, as part of the brigade combat team, medical company. Though she was immensely proud of Peeta for serving in the armed forces, she could not help but feel a little selfish.

They kept in touch, of course, and as often as they could. But infrequent FaceTime, text messages, and emails were poor substitutes for the real Peeta. She missed the simple pleasures of idle conversations and mundane routines with him. She missed the way his laughter bubbled from deep inside his chest, the way his scent always reminds her of an oddly comforting combination of dill and cinnamon, and the way she'd wake up to the weight of his arm draped over her waist as if it were molded to fit her side. She measured the time of his return in months, weeks, days, until finally, she was able to count the number of hours she would be able to see him again.

But last night proved to be a difficult one. Lying on her side of the bed, Katniss's mind raced in a constant state of disquiet, in mixed proportions of anticipation, worry, and delight. It was fairly close to three-thirty, when she finally felt herself count the last sheep and drift into a restless sleep. She woke especially early in the morning, dark under-eye circles and all, which had the adverse effect of making the day seem longer. At work, the anticipation she felt was reminiscent of her younger days at school, eyeing the clock wearily as if a summer vacation loomed just beyond the ring of a bell. Throughout the day, Katniss was irritable––wearing more than her usual scowl––and embarrassingly unfocused. The only thing she couldn't stop thinking about was how achingly slow time crawled.

Finally, she completed enough of her work to sufficiently call it a day. She went home to the apartment she shared with Peeta to freshen up quickly, and made the drive to the airport. Although she factored in rush hour traffic into her commute, she made the turn for the freeway exit for airport arrivals an hour earlier than Peeta's own arrival. She didn't even have to break very many speed limits to get there.

When she reached the terminal's interior, a small crowd was already gathered in front of the long walkway that funneled newly-arrived travelers into the main depot. Katniss was at once relieved and pleased that she wasn't the only one eager to welcome somebody home. There were seats in a separate waiting area, but they remained largely unoccupied. Instead, Katniss chose to stand with the crowd that waited underneath the large flight board, all lit up with pixelated text, signaling the statuses of various international flights. She was able to distract herself by marveling at the number of languages her ear could pick. Though she could not recognize most of the tongues being spoken around her, her heart lighted at the thought that they all shared the same eagerness of being reunited with a loved one. Despite how tired she was, this renewed Katniss's excitement, as the hour of Peeta's arrival drew nearer.

When the status denoted that Peeta's plane had finally landed, Katniss took out her phone from her purse, anticipating the text Peeta had promised a few nights ago. Her phone vibrated expectedly several minutes later, but instead of Peeta's name flashing on the screen, it was a message from Prim, "Say hi to Peeta for me," followed by a semi-colon and a closed parenthesis. Katniss was momentarily bewildered as to why her sister would send her a virtual wink. She didn't have time to dwell on it, however, because suddenly, she was standing on tiptoes as a trickle of newly arrived travelers made their way through the walkway. It did not take long for the few to turn into a sea of faces and luggage.

For almost an hour, she looked for but failed to find Peeta's face among the hundreds of unfamiliar ones that emerged from the arrival tunnel. She watched and listened all around her, as families and loved ones were reunited in a swirl of embraces and cries of joy. She especially felt a twinge of envy when she witnessed couples' reunions. She turned her head to avoid seeing one partner twirl the other in their arms as they kissed. She figured averting her gaze was better than looking dour when she was surrounded by happy faces, and the camaraderie she felt with them earlier was quickly forgotten.

Katniss continued to wait, though her resolve was beginning to dwindle, as did the crowd. She tried to squash a growing annoyance at the situation. Maybe Peeta had been bumped to a later flight. Maybe he was stranded at a different airport, but couldn't get in touch with her. She decided the best course of action was to wait out the night, in hopes that Peeta would eventually show up or call.

Now, she found herself sitting alone on one of the metallic seats in the waiting area, facing the terminal's exit. The building was as good as empty, the last international flight landed and along with it, the sounds of joyful reunion fading to mere echoes. Katniss glumly looked past the sliding glass doors, into the darkness of night, and watched as a lone taxi traversed the airport road. She let out a long sigh, feeling rather perplexed and disappointed about how the night had transpired. Her cellphone remained silent through it all. Not a word from Peeta, nor from Prim or any of her friends, for that matter.

She heard him before she saw him. Without warning, Katniss's ears perked up and she sat up straighter, with a hopeful ear tuned to the reverberations of approaching footsteps. Even from several yards away, though, she knew it wasn't Peeta. The gait was all wrong.

She finally saw the footsteps belonged to a young man, about the same age as her sister. He chose a seat in the waiting area, not too far from her. She figured he was just a straggling traveler from one of the last flights, who, conversely, was waiting for his ride home. She turned to offer him a smile of sympathy for being left out here so late, but her smile wilted from her lips when she saw that he was looking––no, staring––quite intently at her. Her eyes darted to the hard-shelled case carried.

The stranger broke eye contact long enough to lift the case on his lap, unhook its metal latches, and take out an object that Katniss least expected to see at a time like this. She stared back at the stranger's face, her eyebrows furrowed in a wordless question.

What happened next made her suck in a sharp breath and left her mouth hanging open.

* * *

With his duffle bag slung over his shoulder with a bent arm, Peeta rounded the corner of the hallway leading away from the baggage claim area into the main rotunda of the terminal. His free hand trailed to his hip, released the Velcro on his pant pocket, and felt around for his cellphone. When he found it, he pulled it out and depressed the button to turn it on.

He weaved through the crowds of embracing, newly reunited parties, stealing quick glances at them. Peeta felt his heart beat a bit faster. His standard issue combat boots carried him with a lightness in his step, even though his legs were still wobbly from the atrophy of several hours' worth of flights. When his phone finally lit up and activated, he opened his contacts list, scrolled down to find a particular name, and dialed the number.

It rang only once before the receiver picked up. "Hey." Peeta's voice was a little raspy from hours of disuse, and his mouth felt a dry. "I'm here."

Peeta continued to make his way to the terminal's exit with the phone held against his ear. He caught the grateful and admiring smiles, salutes, and thumbs-ups from civilians who saw him in his uniform, and he acknowledged each of them with a nod. He also felt his face turn up into a smile, a combination of his pride of country and the joy of being back.

"I can't wait to see you, either," he chuckled into the phone. "You're outside now? Okay, I'll see you in a bit."

He ended the phone call, as he walked through the automatic sliding doors that opened for him. Peeta stepped into the afternoon sunlight, and breathed in the cool spring air and the enveloping, distinct scent of home.

* * *

Katniss couldn't believe she let Johanna and the others drag her out to a karaoke bar. Granted, she was here mostly for Prim's sake. Prim, who was a few months shy of the legal drinking age, wanted to "go out and do something" with Jo and the girls, to see what a karaoke bar was like. And when they invited Katniss out tonight, they told her they were going to a dive bar. It also happened to be Karaoke Night.

Delly, who has been working steadily on her second drink in order to give the empty glass in front of her some company, cheerfully gaged that they were all sufficiently drunk to finally get on stage and take the mic. "Who wants to go first?"

"I think it should be Primrose." Johanna suggested. She added, "What better way to get over her second––no, third––breakup with Rory Hawthorne than a rendition of 'I Will Survive'?" She laughed at her own joke.

Prim looked up from her Shirley Temple with wide eyes. Now that she was done grousing over her tumultuous relationship with her interim ex-boyfriend, Prim had been quiet for the past half hour as she wallowed over her drink. She clearly did not expect to express her melancholy through song that night. She looked pleadingly across the table at her sister for rescue.

Katniss mentally cursed herself for being so protective of Prim, that she couldn't even suffer her sister's discomfort, even though it was Prim's decision to agree to come out with Johanna, of all people.

"Fine," Katniss sighed. "I volunteer."

"Age before beauty," Annie joined.

Katniss shot her friend a deadly look. Annie merely shrugged her slender shoulders, indicating that she only meant to be encouraging, and blissfully took another sip of her martini. Katniss could have sworn, though, that she saw Annie's mouth curve into a tiny smirk before she covered it with her glass.

Undeterred, and satisfied with the torment of either Everdeen sister, Johanna piped up, "Oh my god, I know the perfect song for you." Before Katniss could protest, she was off her seat, making her way to the front of the room with surprising swiftness and balance, considering how much she had had to drink already that night.

Realizing that an inebriated Johanna was even more stubborn than a sober one, Katniss took a appreciable sip of her vodka cranberry, thankful for the first time that night that they made their drinks particularly strong at this bar.

* * *

"Katniss Everdeen," announced the disembodied voice over the speakers.

Peeta was diligently nursing his beer at the bar. He only came out with Finnick that night because he was not immune to his friend's irresistible charm, that, or his insistent pleadings. He barely had time to register how utterly unique the name Katniss was––coming from a guy named Peeta––before he heard Finnick exclaim, "Nice," from next to him. Peeta followed his friend's gaze to the stage, and saw Katniss Everdeen.

_"Can... anybody find me somebody to love?"_

As the piano riff played, Peeta swiveled his body on the barstool to face the stage and the girl singing on it. He kept his eyes fixed on her through the whole song.

_"Each morning, I get up I die a little. Can barely stand on my feet…"_

When she reached the chorus, the crowd applauded loudly, even joining in some of the lyrics. Peeta, however, was entranced by her voice, and heard nothing but. As he watched her, he saw the emotion flow from beyond her voice. He sat through a couple of painful interpretations of cheesy pop songs, delivered by two other patrons that night. Both of them chose songs that were meaningless, empty.

But Katniss, was different. She was unassuming, dressed demurely compared to the other women in the bar that night. She even wore a braid that ran sideways and draped over her shoulders. Peeta felt an inexplicable urge to loosen it, and run his fingers through her hair. And when she sang, she meant every word of the song, and Peeta felt as though she was speaking to him. He was quite sure that he had his senses about him still––he was only on his first drink, after all––and decided he wanted to meet this woman named Katniss, who wanted to find somebody.

* * *

"Hi."

Before she could return to her table, she nearly ran into another patron of the bar on her way down from the stage. Katniss looked up to find the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen, even in the wan combination of dim fluorescent and garish neon lighting. Coming off the exhilaration of being in the literal spotlight, she was still unsure of what to make of everyone's reaction to her singing, as she had never sung in public before. She was certainly caught off guard when a complete stranger––whom Katniss could admit was not entirely unattractive––came over from the bar, and introduced himself.

"I'm Peeta." He stretched out his hand to shake hers.

She reciprocated the gesture. "Katniss." To her periphery, she could see the upturned faces of the women at her table. She tried to avoid eye contact with any of them.

"Yeah, I know. I heard you earlier."

"Yeahhh, I'm sorry," she said shyly. If the lights were any brighter in the establishment, he would certainly be able to see her cheeks turn a brighter shade of red. "That was me, saving my sister from certain humiliation."

Peeta laughed appreciatively. She felt strangely comforted by the sound of his laughter, even amidst the din of chatter in the bar. "You're a good sister. And a very good singer."

Katniss shook her head dismissively, but she smiled at the compliment. She could feel her face get very hot, even though the heat from the stage's earlier spotlight had long since faded. "Well, you know you really love someone when you're willing to sing in public and embarrass yourself for them."

She surprised herself at how well she could keep up the banter with this man, even though they just met. They shared a good laugh then, neither of them sure if the alcohol they'd consumed helped fuel it, but it felt good.

"Hey, listen. I don't normally do this. And believe me, that's not a line, but would you want to go out with me sometime?" He paused briefly, and lowered his voice a little in a half-hearted explanation, "That was the extent of my arsenal of lines."

Katniss told herself that she couldn't get involved with anybody right now, much less with someone she meets at a bar. It didn't take her long to decide to decline his offer, and now it was a matter of letting him down gently.

But before she could script out an drawn-out apology in her head, her mouth responded, "Yes."

* * *

Katniss always hated dating. Her last relationship wasn't even anything she would remotely classify as serious. The only thing that resulted from going out Gale Hawthorne was the introduction of his brother to her sister. She remained friends with Gale to this day.

She did not know what to expect from her first date with Peeta, who was being purposely coy and vague about it. He simply told her to dress comfortably, and meet him at the park an hour before sundown. She wore her hair in her usual braid, dressed in her favorite jeans and a tank top, and brought along a jacket. It had been a long time since she felt the thrilling anticipation of getting ready for a date, and she actually felt excited about going out with Peeta.

When she arrived at the park, she saw he was already there. He approached her car, almost shyly, as if he were losing some of his overly self-assured confidence. But this only made him more endearing to her. He held the car door open for her as she got out, and gave her a lopsided smile.

"Hi."

"Hi," she replied.

He offered his elbow, which she didn't hesitate to hook her own around, as she locked her door. They walked towards the center of the park.

"So, I hope you cleared your schedule for tonight. I have the whole evening planned."

"Oh, darn. You mean I have to cancel my other date for later tonight?" she teased.

He pretended to look wounded and said gravely, "I'm afraid so." By then, they had reached a small clearing, surrounded by trees. Katniss was awed at what Peeta had done to transform the spot.

There was a blanket spread on the ground, and pillows piled on top of it. A cooler and a basket stood nearby, no doubt filled with what was to be their dinner, from what she could tell from the aroma that was wafted by the soft breeze. Late afternoon sunlight spilled past the branches of the trees and lit the scene in a picturesque glow.

Peeta gestured for Katniss to take a seat, and served her a glass of red wine. Before she could wonder what else he had planned for their evening, he offered her a bread basket filled with mouth-watering cheese buns, tucked in a cloth napkin that kept the bread warm.

Katniss sank her teeth into a cheese bun and exclaimed, "Oh my god!"

Peeta looked alarmed, and asked if she was okay.

She nodded her head, and indicated the bun in her hand. "This is so good."

The smile he wore didn't leave his face until the next course.

Peeta served them a salad of spinach and strawberry with balsamic vinegar and olive oil. He also scooped a helping of coriander pesto potato salad next to it. The next course was Southern country fried chicken with mushroom gravy biscuits.

"Did you make all this?" she asked as he handed her the third course.

"I _made_ it to the restaurant, and ordered the food to go," he confessed sheepishly. "But I made the cheese buns," he added proudly. "And dessert."

"The cheese buns are decidedly my favorite part of the meal."

He reached across the blanket and placed another hot cheese bun next to her chicken.

They talked for almost an hour. She learned that his family owned a bakery, but growing up wasn't all cakes and pastries. His mother was abusive, and he and his brothers were often the targets of her wrath. Their father was more or less absent, choosing to bury himself in his work than face reality. Peeta joined the army as soon as he could. But he decided to be part of the brigade support medical company, rather than actual combat. He was compelled by his desire to help soldiers who have been injured in the field.

She told him about her father's death, and how her mother's spirit died along with him. She recounted the difficulties in having to practically raise her sister Prim, but ultimately how rewarding it was to see her through med school. She also talked about her friends, whom Peeta briefly met at the bar.

He interrupted her when the sun began to set. "Sorry, but I wanted to watch this with you." He indicated the twilight sky. "That's my favorite color," he murmured.

"Mine's green."

They watched in brief silence at the sunset, marveling at how well the soft pinkish orange mingled with the lush hunter green of the tree tops, each wonder of nature playing off the other.

Katniss felt bold enough to reach over and lace her fingers through his. "Thank you for dinner."

"You're welcome."

After a few minutes, Peeta moved to stand, grunting a little at the effort. He went over, in between two trees in front of their blanket, to situate a large white blanket with rope on each of its four corners. She watched curiously as he tied each corner to tree branches and around trunks, and the result was a giant, web-like arrangement. He wordlessly walked to an area behind their picnic blanket, and assembled a small array of electronics: a projector, a DVD player, and speakers.

Peeta dropped down next to her and produced a small assortment of DVDs. She remained silent, but smiled in astonishment.

"So," he began. "You get to pick the movies. I think we have time for two before our wine runs out." His voice dropped an octave lower, and with a portentous voice, he warned, "Choose wisely."

They watched a double feature of _Casablanca_ and _Raiders of the Lost Ark_, as they drank wine and ate the peach cobbler Peeta baked.

* * *

His mouth hovered hotly above hers, as she pulled his head in completely for another kiss. He ran his fingers through her dark tresses, which had come loose from her braid under his gentle tugging. In the months since they've started going out, neither could deny the smoldering attraction between them. It was as if their very beings were tethered to each other's, and that the connection they shared transcended merely this lifetime.

Peeta felt at home when he positioned himself between her bent knees. He pulled back to hastily let his fingers travel down the front of her shirt to release the buttons. "Too many," he complained.

She laughed and swatted his hands away, and deftly undid the buttons herself. Peeta wasted no time in showering her newly bared chest with kisses, stopping to lavish extra attention to her breasts underneath her lace bra.

He looked up from his ministrations, and into her eyes, with a silent question. She nodded her head in response. He returned with a wicked smile and slowly brought his head to the lower regions of her body.

She felt like her soul was catching fire.

* * *

Peeta immediately spotted the car among the long line of vehicles queued along the passenger loading zone, and headed toward it. His smile widened when the driver opened the door and rushed to meet him halfway.

Finnick outstretched his arms and favored Peeta with a grin he usually reserved for helpless females in their habitats of bars and clubs. "Miss me?"

"Of course," replied Peeta, who walked into his friend's embrace, dropping his duffel bag to the ground.

Finnick gave Peeta's back several pats before releasing him. "Glad you're home, man," he said earnestly.

"Me, too."

Finnick picked up Peeta's neglected bag from the ground, popped open the trunk, and tossed the bag inside. He motioned for Peeta to get in the car so they can be on their way.

Before Finnick shifted the gear to drive, he looked pensively over at Peeta, cocking an eyebrow, and with a slightly challenging tone in his voice, he confirmed, "You ready?"

"I've been ready for over a year now."

* * *

Peeta didn't have time to set the alarm last night, but it was no matter. He was awake before the hour he would have set his alarm to go off anyway.

Although he normally considered himself a morning person, this particular morning held many reasons for him to want to stay in bed longer. But he knew he couldn't. Reluctantly, he slid his arm off a sleeping Katniss, from where it had been draped over her waist. Without disturbing her, he rose and changed into his uniform, which had been laid out almost an entire day, anticipating the moment of its use.

After emerging from the bathroom, Peeta sat at the edge of his side of the bed and laced his boots, double-knotting them as he usually did, for good measure.

He turned and studied Katniss as she slept. Even in her sleep, she looked exhausted, the last few days' hectic activities evident in the way she slept soundly but not deeply. It didn't help that the night before, she arranged a surprise farewell party for him, and when they returned home, he thanked her thoroughly for it and kept her up even later. He had to force himself to push away instinctual thoughts of the feel of his skin against hers.

Looking at her now, he didn't want to wake her, but he couldn't leave without saying good-bye. He moved to crouch beside her.

"Katniss," he whispered, as he brushed her cheek lightly with his fingers.

"Peeta?" she breathed, her voice groggy and disoriented from being summoned out of sleep. "What time is it?" Her eyes fluttered and she drew a deep breath, shifting a little.

"I'm about to head out."

"What?" She suddenly shot straight up, nearly giving Peeta a head-butt from the proximity of their faces. "Did I oversleep? Never mind. I can be ready in ten minutes. No, give me five minutes… three!" She threw her blankets aside, crossed the room, and frantically began to search the closet for something to wear.

"The cab's waiting for me downstairs."

"What? No, I'm driving you to the airport." Undeterred, she began putting on a T-shirt, no bra.

"Katniss…" Peeta crossed the distance between them, and grabbed her hands. She was in the middle of putting her right foot into the wrong leg of her jeans. He tipped her chin and locked eyes with her, not needing to speak another word just yet.

She, however, began to babble in between short breaths and threatening tears. "I have to say good-bye to you," she began, in a despondent tone. It didn't help that she knew how pathetic she must look, wearing a slouchy shirt and her jeans around her ankles. "I'm wearing a trench coat and I borrowed a fedora from Jo. I wanted to say, 'Here's looking at you, kid,' and I have to watch you get on the plane and fly into the fog."

"They won't let you past the security checkpoint. And you're much prettier than Humphrey Bogart."

"I can watch you leave from security," she said helplessly.

"Katniss." The calm in his voice made her stop rambling, and at the same time saddened her at its resoluteness. "If you come with me, I won't get on that plane."

"This wasn't how I expected to say good-bye to you," she wailed quietly. Her eyes and nose stung.

"I know, sweetheart." He paused. "I'd rather not say good-bye at all." Though he didn't say it, they both knew he had to go.

He cradled her head in his hands, and planted a soft kiss on her lips. She, in turn, grabbed his face, covering his ears, and deepened the kiss, not even worrying that her breath was still sour from sleep. She sniffled a little, muttering an apology for the wetness of the tears that have fallen from her face. His face was, not surprisingly, wet with his own tears.

"See you soon," he said solemnly.

"See you soon."

He released her and picked up the duffel bag waiting for him by the door. He looked back at her one last time before opening the door and stepped through, leaving his heart behind.

* * *

The last time she talked to him through FaceTime, they exchanged their excitement over Peeta's coming home. More importantly, they arranged his pickup from the airport, from which airline, and which flight number.

Katniss confirmed the time with Peeta a couple of times, and she even had him send it to her via email and text message.

"You really miss me, huh?" Even through the fiber optics and wireless waves, Katniss could see Peeta's face beamed with pride over the tiny iPhone screen.

She shook her head in false indignation, though a smile peeked through. "I can't believe the next time I see you, it'll actually be the real you."

His face broke into a sincere smile. "I know. I can't wait."

Katniss stifled a yawn, and saw that time had slipped past without them noticing, as it usually happens whenever they chat like this. She began to feel the familiar heaviness of her eyelids, her eyes a little watery from finally giving in to a yawn. She lowered her head down to her pillow, setting the phone right in front of her face as she lay on her side.

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?" she smiled sleepily.

"Always."

* * *

The stranger took out a portable piano keyboard and set on his lap. He turned it on, and positioned himself more comfortably. Then, his fingers began to dance across the black and white keys, playing a familiar tune Katniss had heard on occasion, but always associated with one night in particular.

She sucked in a sharp breath in recognition of the song.

_"Can… anybody find me… somebody to… love?"_

The voice came distinctly from the arrivals tunnel. Katniss turned around and saw him, her mouth slightly open, trailed by a small entourage of people carrying various instruments: a portable electric guitar with amplifier, drums. Peeta's serenade was accompanied by their music. Following the musicians, Katniss was shocked to see the familiar faces of Prim, Johanna, Annie, Finnick, Delly, and even Rory Hawthorne.

By the time the group walked across the terminal, Peeta had sung through the first verse. Though she loved him dearly, he should really stick to just singing in the shower.

The entourage approached her together, with Peeta leading the charge, then suddenly, he walked ahead of them, and bridged the rest of the distance between him and Katniss. Even the young man with the keyboard had rejoined the rest of the others, she realized. Now it was just the two of them, standing among empty waiting room seats.

Without missing another beat, they were wrapped in each other's arms, breathing in the other's scent. Katniss placed her cheek on the familiar place on his shoulder. "You're late," she accused, and they both laughed.

When they released each other, Katniss shook her head in disbelief, but a smile remained on her lips as she looked into his eyes. "Is this real?"

"Real. Very real."

Peeta dipped his head closer to Katniss's face. His voice took on a confessional tone. "This wasn't how I pictured doing this, but you once told me that embarrassing yourself singing in public meant that you really loved someone."

Katniss smiled at the memory of that night.

"I wasn't sure if you were kidding, but it sounded like pretty good logic to me." He continued, "Katniss, the night I heard you sing changed my life. I found somebody to love, and I hope you did, too."

She nodded her head in quiet agreement, "We found each other." Then, her eyes widened, as she watched Peeta descend onto one knee. Katniss asked, "Are you––we," she corrected, "really doing this?"

Peeta nodded, who seemed for once, at a loss for words.

"Then you don't have to ask," said Katniss, her eyes shining. "My answer is yes."

Peeta reached inside his pocket and produced a ring, modest but beautiful, sparkling iridescently under the airport terminal's lights.

There might have been a smattering of cheers and applause from the crowd that watched them, and the hugs and congratulations will come later. But Katniss wasn't thinking of that. She didn't even hear them because Peeta had just slipped the ring that fit perfectly on her finger. She draped her arms around his shoulders and nape, and brought his head closer to hers.

When they kissed, Peeta encircled his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. Their hearts soared and they both truly felt found.

* * *

end.


End file.
